Past, Present and Future

Before Vienna, if Papa, Wolfie and I were alone, we used to argue over principles of composition. The arguments were always noisier than the conclusion. We would take it in turns to rattle out an idea on the harpsichord and when I performed a particularly elegant phrase, I felt the Lord was punishing me for a display of petticoat excellence. Who outside this room, I thought, would PLAY me?
The desolation of my spirit at these times, if I had acknowledged it aloud would have been unbearable. There was no great expectation for my career in a worldly sense, but I did not want to be without private hopes for myself, which is why I continue to write music for the bottom drawer.
When I imagine my future life as a wife and step-mother who must compose as catch can, I feel like Jonah, crying out of the belly of HELL, or the maid trying to cut her way out of the giant’s stomach in a fairytale. I could burn all that I have written, so that no one will ever know what was lost to the world. I could remain the enigmatic sister of a genius...
After Breakfast:
I was in a tiresome spell when I began this entry. Have consumed a quaking pudding with great gusto and feel much better. After this morning’s galanteries, I will take a coach to meet my future family. N.